


The Bear and the Wolf

by GoldenGail3



Series: The Chronicles of Fire and Ice [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Brandon was named after Lord Brandon Stark of Winterfell, Childhood Friends, Cute Kids, Eventual Romance, F/M, House Mormont, House Stark, Original Character(s), POV Alternating, POV Arya Stark, POV Lyanna Mormont, POV Male Character, Slow Build, Slow Burn, The North based stuff, all of my POV characters are children, book Arya!, he may as well be dead, just consider Jorah dead while your reading this, take that as you will tags, there is neither a king or queen of the north in this, without her pstd and without her going to the Faceless men, ye after his liege
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-04 22:50:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15851028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenGail3/pseuds/GoldenGail3
Summary: Brandon Mormont, the current Lord of Bear Island, was left the island as virtually an orphan after his father, Jorah sold poachers to slavers for a tidy sum for his step mother.





	1. The Mormonts

**Author's Note:**

> I warn you not to read this if your an environmentalist. you might find yourself dead, upon hearing about medieval whaling that the North (more like Bear island) decides to engage in (and they use everything from their whaling business).
> 
> I also would like to think the Iron Isles engages in whaling too. 
> 
> also i basically made bear island a mix of Alaska and Norway. (minus the fact that Norwegians were Vikings.)

It had all started when his father had ran away with his step-mother, Lady Lynesse Hightower. His great-aunt had hid him with a guardian on the mainland to keep him away from his father's touch - so when Lord Brandon Stark came to Bear Island upon hearing of his father's crime, of selling poachers to slavers for gold for his Lady Wife - he had immediately declared her as his Lady Regent until he grew of age to rule the island for himself. He was personally find with it, it meant less responsibility, for now at least. Which is what he wanted, for now.

  
"You best get back to your studies, little Lord." His auntie jokily said, as he stood on the dock of Bear Island, looking out at all the deep, dark waves underneath his feet. It seemed almost endless to Brandon Mormont, the only son and heir of Jorah Mormont. He sighed, before turning his head towards her. She had been his only parental figure these years, given that both were basically dead to him as it was, and thus he owed it to her to listen.

  
"Ugh, fine." He complained somewhat. "But isn't Lord Brandon...my namesake, coming to see... your progress?" He referred to the mass debt his father had left behind, as well as having to buy everything slowly back since Jorah sold a lot of things that shouldn't had been sold when he was in charge of the island. He had heard that his father made him sleep in a wooden shelf due to selling his own crib for the woman Lynesse, but he didn't know that to be true. It could've been, but he didn't know the full extent of what exactly his father did whilst he was with his Glover relatives on the main island.

  
"Yes, and you best be prepared for that visit." She stated, taking a flask of whiskey from her waist and drinking the little glass vial until it was empty. "By going back with Lyanna." She pointed to the girl next to her, whom was named after Lyanna Stark, the She-Wolf of Lys. They both shared the same brown-colored eyes and raven coloring, which was considered the Mormont coloring, like the Starks having long faces and grey eyes, the Tully's having blue eyes and ginger hair, and so on and so forth. But even she was taller than him, which was a little embarrassing. His aunt had also considered giving him in marriage to Lyanna, her only daughter, given that they were similarly aged, but something must've come up, for she decided against such an idea.

  
"Okay!" He smiled, for afterall, Lord Brandon was his namesake. "I can't wait for Lord Brandon to visit us! He's said to be a wicked arse warrior, and that I was lucky to be named after him. The Umbers even had their own Brandon, but he died." _By an faceless man in Lys, that is._

  
Lyanna gave him a wicked smile. "I betcha I could beat you back to Bear Castle, Brandon."

  
"Oh we'll see, Lyanna." He responded, as the two of them begun to run to the castle. Lyanna raced ahead of him, elegantly and gracefully, without interrupting a single twig on the ground, like a elk. Meanwhile, he stomped through the woods like their House Insigma - a bear - ironically enough, as huffed behind her elegant stepping, although unlike her, he had more stamina on him than she did. He could run for many miles without an end without stopping to take a breather, regardless of how loud he himself was about it, and thus he had to wait for her to tire herself out.

  
The forest ahead was a dark, mischievous place where old and ancient things grew wild in it's midst. Some of it's trees were said to be from the age of the Children of the Forest, given that some of them had faces on them, but others did not. They did indeed, cut some of their trees for the winter session like everyone else, but it was a vast, untameable forest, so it was impossible to cut them all the face trees down regardless. He meanwhile, found himself staring directly at a sad looking white Heart Tree, with it's red-colored leaves swaying delicately in the wind as they chased each other through it. Sometimes, he felt them, the Weirwood trees he passed, almost stare directly into his soul, and felt a sudden sense of discomfort, like the Gods were watching him; or something else was watching him- but the children of the Forest hadn't been seen since... whom knew? Thousands of years have passed since than, and by now, to Brandon they were nothing but a story to tell small children.

  
**________________**

  
By the time they passed the woods, he huffed, and slowed down slightly, but not enough to stop his movement of running though. Lyanna was continuing her stretch, harmlessly as if to mock his weakness. His aunt had popped up next to them, though she seemed find watching them, and not doing anything to stop them from their current course of action.

  
As they ran, he saw the statue that he found funniest. It was of a mother and a suckling babe in her arms, as she breastfed the babe with a rather strong expression on her face. It was rather unfortunate that once he was born, he had to get a breast-maid to feed him any milk, whilst Lyanna got her own mother's own breast. It was terribly unfair, but than again girl Bears were the protectors of their tribe, not the males. They were the loners, of whom only came to mate every once in a full moon, and during that time, terrible fights took place whom would be able to mate with which female Bear they found themselves sniffing for. He found that ironic, because his own father forsaken him for a woman, a whiny, arrogant Southern at that and all because he found her pretty, or something, he didn't know, and didn't find himself particularly caring. He was a fool, a weak fool that decided that he needed a southern bride to fulfil his need for spare heirs, or at least according to others, that whispered about him on the island still.

  
There were other statues too, like of white polar bears that sometimes came fishing down this way alongside its cousin, the brown bear.

  
As they approached the castle, he'd just barely got ahead of Lyanna sheerly through it being dry, grassland without a curve. He ran, right up until he saw the long drawbridge of Bear Castle. The Castle itself sat on it's own personal mini-island, which was full of cracking seals upon it's cold beachfront. There was also a small patch of empire penguins to the side of it, quacking alongside one another in harmony - he even saw some with coats full of thick, tough fur - in other words he saw baby Empires. Only baby Empires were so fully coated like that, because the adults had ditched them long ago in preference for more leathery attires. He knew this because the gentle Maester had seen to teach him all about the creatures of this region, which included gentle orcas, whom they whaled, hunted down, murdered, and whom's blubbery hide was used as a source of oil for there ships. Ocra's were considered priceless goods in the North, simply due to how truly precious those animals were to the rest of Westeros, of whom were willing to pay a good fee for oil which the Orca's so kindly provided. They also had schools of fresh-water salmon coming this way, and some other small land-based creatures, like flying possums, chipmunks, and some rabbi infected rabbits, but that was about it in terms of land-based critters.

  
However, that was unimportant, for the large gate slowly lowered, as his aunt signalled them to open the gates. Which they did, ponderously. Bear Castle was a much smaller castle than Winterfell, which was an impressive sculpture, but regardless, Bear Island was quite comfortably sized as far as an island based castle could be - it had enough rooms for thousands of guests like a normal castle should, but he, his cousin, and his aunt occupied the Lord's end of the castle, which consisted of three vast rooms and three toilet-rooms, for their luxury and joy. But he was the Lord of the Castle, thus giving him automatically the largest of the sweets though. In the middle of the House, there was a large, ancient Heart-tree that smiled, with what he could only prescribe as joy. It was a happy, smiling tree, unlike some of the other Houses own weirwood trees, which got either angry or crying Heart-trees in their gardens.

  
The gates opened, and the three of them crossed the path to the courtyard of their castle. Some of their small-folk lived with them inside of these walls, due to the dangers of the Ironborn invading them and sacking their villages; but none of them slept in their guest-chambers, as they already had built-in accommodations for the small-folks due to the constructors of Bear Castle thinking about the small-folk, unlike most other common lords, he supposed. But they did nevertheless, have a small village outside of their walls feeding them with their catches of fish and what-not. They also collected and gave to them baskets of numerous wild-berries found strewn across the island, which was pretty nice too.

  
"I won, Lyanna!" Brandon smiled genuinely, as he hugged his cousin, as he flung her tiny frame in the air, much to the amusement of aunt Maede. Lyanna huffed, as he accidentally made sure it was rather hard for her to breath by hugging her too hard.

  
She gave him a mischievous smile, which also reflected in her oval shaped muddy-brown colored eyes. Her eyes were always alight with energy though, even though by most southern standards, she would be considered a simple looking girl appearance-wise. Her usually long raven-colored hair was tied up in a bun on her head, but right now she wore a dress of leather to protect herself from the elements. She also wore a dirk on her belt, like he did as well. There were indeed dangers on this island, like runaway or washed up Ironborn that sometimes landed on their island and of whom looked to take their items, to realise that their castle was well-fortified on it’s pillar of an island.

  
"This time, Brandon. But you were super loud, stompin' about like some wild beast or something whilst we were in the forest. You need to learn somethin' about that, now don't cha?" She responded sweetly as she stared at him with her mischievous set of eyes.

  
"Not everyone can overnight be a silent hunter, like you Lyanna." He stormed, moodily. Was she trying to ruin his victory? He didn't like the sound of that.

  
"That's because your a boy, and boys are all noisy." She snorted.

  
"And girls are weaker than boys, be shushy Lyanna." He smiled, because he usually defeated her at swordsplay.

  
"Oh, we'll see about that." She snarled, as she looked about ready to snap at him, before Maede separated the two of them and she was brought to her own chambers by Maede. Meanwhile, he was left alone in the vast courtyard. He sighed, as he walked off back to his chambers to change out of his murky boots and out of his muddled cape he wore, which bore the Bear insigma of House Mormont proudly on display. It was held together by the red glove of House Glover at it's centrepiece, holding it together. He sighed, as he basically strolled back inside, to his own chambers. It would do them no favors to let the Starks see the Lord of Bear Island wearing dirty, muck-covered clothing - no, after this he'd go find the nearest shower, despite it being chilled, iced water due to their fresh-water supply coming from the clouds above. And Bear Island rained hail, snow, and very cold raindrops.

  
_____________

  
Arya watched both her cousin and her older, perfect sister, walk alongside their respected promised fiancé's - the mild-mannered Domeric Bolton, with those unseemly light blue eyes of his, and SmallJon Umber for the perfectly petite Raya Stark, her beautiful, comely cousin. She had a head of long raven-colored hair and deep grey eyes that could seemly see everything around her, as she walked around Winterfell in her white-raven dress. Both of them were so beautiful though, Arya wasn't. Or at least she didn't feel it - everyone called her 'Arya Horseface' due to her face looking a horses, like Raya's actually, but nobody called her horsefaced though. Everyone called her beautiful, in a sort of icy-filed way like her own auntie Lyanna Stark.

  
"Are we going to Bear Island?" She looked at her strong father, of whom stood with her and her mother as they overlooked the scene. Of Sansa smiling, embracing her fiancé's arm. Her fiancé wasn't handsome, not in the least next to her. But even he looked happy, even disregarding the fact that he was a Bolton and wore the flayed man sigil with pride on his blood red cloak.

  
"Yes. You see, since their last-lord left after escaping my justice..." He frowned, "Rhaegar's justice, Ice's justice, they've been rebuilding their wealth once again and I wish to see their progress personally. I also want to bring you along with me, my darling daughter." He put a gentle hand on her chin and stared into her eyes. They had the same grey eyes, unlike Sansa of whom looked like a mini-version of their Tully mother. She looked so dashing, as her fiancé put her on the back of his horse, and the two of them ran off - presumably to the Dreadfort. He sometimes brought her to the Dreadfort, where she met her friend Lyarra Bolton. She was actually surprised at how noble and kind the Bolton children have been acting thus far.

  
"Oh? Me?" Her grey eyes widened. "I.. I would love to. I've always wanted to be friends with the Mormonts." The new Lord was said to be a boy of strength not seen since Lord Rickard Mormont, the Wild-Bear of whom was considered one of the greatest fighters at the time of him living, beyond Aemon 'the dragonknight' and Cregan Stark, his own liege-lord at the time. She at least listened to history enough to know about whom she wanted to replicate in history - even though the majority of them were men, beyond maybe Queen Rhaenys and Queen Visenya Targaryen. She had always wanted to be like Visenya, the greatest female fighter of her day, whilst Sansa had always wanted to be Rhaenys, the loved one. Whilst Lyanna Mormont was a great huntress, and she was nearby her age regardless.

  
"Good. Get packing, dearest. We leave tomorrow and promptly indeed." He winked at her.

  
"Sansa, Raya, they all so look so happy... and so unbearably feminine with their Lords, with their stuffing gowns." She frowned, thinking about it. Her own auntie, her wild spited auntie wore dresses too. All of them, they weren't her. All she wanted was to be free - and happy to do as she pleased without having to do needlework.

  
He laughed. "You sound like my sister, Lyanna. She didn't want to marry Robert because she hated stuffed up gowns too - but he loved her for her wild spirit and wanted her spirt to grow. You never know what'll you get, my sweet, little girl."

  
She felt sort of embarrassed. "Do you plan to marry me off to Brandon Mormont?"

  
"Maybe. But not if you object. Me and your mother agree that you should be happy in your marriage, if you come to that at least."

  
"Oh.." She whispered. She didn't want to marry, but if it made her pappy, her darling pappy that allowed her to wield a sword and made her feel free, happy, that she'd be willing too. She knew he'd be happy if she did so. Like he was happy that uncle Ned sent out his sweet daughter, Raya, out for fostering with him. She wanted to make him proud of her, even if she herself didn't like it. Sansa alas, seemed happy in her arranged marriage - who could say it wouldn't be similar for Arya? But than again, Arya wasn't Sansa, the ever-so dutiful eldest daughter, the one that her mum pampered into dutifulness and into a perfectly modeled lady for her Lordly Husband. She, herself though was the kind that befriended bucher boys and other low-classed people - the sort of lowborn that Sansa would never bother to say hello too, much less befriend. But she didn't care though, anyone could be friends with her, regardless of class. "I'll do it for you pappy, if you really want me too." She said, as she gave him a hug, but since she was about the size of one of his legs, she was basically hugging one of his legs.

  
He chuckled one again, hugging her back with one hand.


	2. The Wolf

He bowed before Lord Stark, as he and his younger daughter, the plain-faced Arya Stark, came from their boat. Honestly, he considered Lord Stark more of a King than the distant King Rhaegar, of whom very rarely visited the North and in the rare case he did, Brandon never saw him. He stared up to see the noble face of Lord Brandon Stark, before standing up, of whom helped him up. His daughter was..  had his eyes and the long face the Stark's were known for; honestly, they looked like daughter and father, something that made him somewhat sad. He had always deeply wanted a father, even though his own was likely long since dead. He also wanted a mother too, even though the closest thing to that was his aunt Maede. He had heard stories of what traditional mums did to did with their cubs, which was make them feel better when they were down, and to cure their ills with chicken soup - something that Maede never did with him. Even though, she did suspiciously treat both he and Lyanna the exact same way - which was getting them both out of bed at dawn to make each other fight with blunt objects, something he heard father's did with sons. She also never discriminated or favored between the two of them, regardless of sex.

"Come now, daughter. I have to see their progress. I assume it's adequate, my good Lady Mormont?" His grey eyes, so similar to his daughter's, starred in the direction of aunt Maede instead of himself. He obviously knew whom was in charge, even if he had the title of Lord of Bear Island. He watched them go back to their castle, tilting his head curiously. He kind of felt... a bit insulted that his proper title hadn't been used by the Warden of the North, given that the Island was akin to the North's shield against the Ironborn fiends. But regardless, she was kind of ruling in his place...

"My Lord Stark." She bowed politely.

"Oh, and I'm sorry terribly sorry, my little namesake." He turned towards himself. "I forgot about you, you right look like a mini, younger version of your old grandfather." He frowned slightly at the mention of his grandfather. The man had never... visited them once not a single time in his life, not even after Jorah left with his bride across the Summer Seas. Brandon would've liked to seen his grandfather though, the Old Bear. Brandon was fairly certain that he'd appreciate it the visit, and even cherished it highly, given that he was the Lord-Commander of the Night's Watch and his own grandfather to boot. But alas, life wasn't fair and it was none of Lord Stark's concern, anyhow. He doubted Lord Stark would care, given that Lord Stark had other more important things to worry about, like the Wildings. They were getting more and more aggressive in their attacks each day, alongside the Ironborn menace in their vast ships made for war and plundering. And they assaulted the Bear Castle with their terrible sounding canons that eoched into the keep like a menace as it failed each time to penetrate their castle's defenses. Or with their reavers, men dressed to kill, as they tried knocking down their defenses with a fiery of fire-arrows loaded in their crossbows from across the harbor. Sometimes they even had to use wild-fire to dispose of them from on-top of their walls, which hurt the wildlife given that the very next day they discovered loads and loads of dead fish bobbing up and down above the waves from the impact of the wild-fire. The Wildlings were malice and untrustworthy, given that they were always attempting to steal and plunder from the smallfolk of the region; in all, the Wildlings were as much as a menace to the region as the Ironborn were.

Indeed, ever since they left the isles - there was still the matter of the old Woodfoot castle ruin to deal with, after it had been left behind by the Ironborn during their scorning of the island; they've never had the gold to refurbish it after they burnt it down - and they even even used some of its own brick material to build their own castle of Bear Castle. They had never been too keen on rebuilding the fortress though, despite that given that it was a poor fortress to begin with. It was so bad, that in fact, that Brandon wondered how they survived so long, in such a bad, nonstrategic location on the isles. It was built on a flat-plain, with it sitting below of the various large hills of Bear Island - and because of that, all the Ironborn had to do was to run behind the fort to take it unaware. Which is why they built their own castle elsewhere, in a more strategic location, to prevent the Ironborn from taking them unaware. Though they did decide to at least put a watchtower at the top of one of the massive hills besides it - and as well, they had attempted to make the Woodfort their summer seat, but they never had the coinage. It was a shame, Brandon supposed, because without that disadvantage, the fort was pretty good in design though and it was an awful waste of motor and stone to keep it uncivilized like the way they were currently keeping it...

"...I do? Thank...I uh,... Guess." He explained, somewhat flustered by the comparison. He didn't want the Lord to know he didn't... exactly knew Jeor, even though he knew the man was still alive on the Wall. Some people claimed he looked like his own father, Jorah too, but he didn't know him either. In all, he knew none of his male relations - most unfortunately. He would've liked to have known Jeor at the very least, due to his status as confirmed alive, for at least the time-being.

"Come along, Lady Mormont. We have much to discuss, don't you think so?" Lord Brandon Stark, with those words being spoken, walked with his aunt on the nice road to Bear Castle. He meanwhile, was stuck between two girls - two girls with swords sheathed on their belts and rather impish looks on their faces, as they stared at him, even disregarding he had two guards following him around everywhere.

____________________________

Arya didn't want to be married, not particularly, in all earnesty, but if it made her pappy happy... than maybe she'd consider it. She didn't want to deal to with stinky babies, nor with losing her precious freedom, the freedom that she relished so harshly for - which she begged her Lord father for as long as she could remember, to finally earn it at long last after breaking him - she didn't want to lost that. The boy-Lord in front of her - Brandon Mormont, wasn't very handsome, or comely, or any of those other things that Sansa would've adored in a boy - no, he was rather average looking, with a head of raven curls and deep brown eyes, like the color of mud. His eyes were full of a sense of willfulness and resolve, something that his cousin, the plain-looking Lyanna Mormont also had.

"So your Lord-Commander Mormont's grandson?" Arya didn't really know what else she should talk to with Lord Brandon Mormont.

He nodded vaguely to the inquiry. "Yes, my Lady." Brandon Mormont, to her at least, seemed to be a naturally shy and nervous little boy, so unlike his seemly friendly and sociable cousin, Lyanna.

"No need to call me my Lady, little Lord. " She winked at him playfully. He didn't respond, beyond titling his raven locks of hair and staring at her curiously. He looked a bit muffled, and not entirely in the best sort of way"you can call me Arya, or Arry. Sometimes Ned, my older brother, calls me Arry."" She smiled, thinking about her older brother Ned, of him playing with her brown locks whilst hugging her in his robust arms, with a light in those blue eyes of his, as he stared into her eyes with his own gentle blue eyes. He didn't give her needle - no, that was papa's choice, and papa gave her needle - Arya felt all of his love and kindness whenever she beheld Needle in her arms, and she'd never, ever let that feeling of simple love go when she held it. Not even after papa sent away Micah back to his job as a butcher boy, not even how she hated him for taking away her friend simply because of his lower class - she let it go, because daddy might allow her to stay on the island, given that this was a place of female warriors - beyond for maybe House Blackwood, which had a repute for it's female warriors, like Agnes Blackwood, of whom so impressed a Hoare King that he offered to make her one of his salt-wives due to her temperament and fierce spirit.

"Okay... uh.... Arya...." He replied, nervously putting his neck behind his back in presumably anxiety. Arya thought he was handsome in a kind of Northern sense, with a raven headful of hair and deep brown eyes. He also was of average height for his age, which was slightly above her in terms of height, due to her being a girl of course. Arya didn't care what he looked like, as long as he was a good chap, like Micah the Butcher boy was. She loved Micah, despite his stench and fifth, or the fact he was a commoner - she liked him because he once helped her with her sword-fighting skills behind her father's back, and always been very loyal to her, regardless. Once her father of course found out about Micah, he sent him away back to the Butchery with his father, which she loathed him for, but also gave her needle and her water-dancer in the process with a smile on his face. "I apologize If I seem rather nervous. I always find talking to girls to be rather nervous-breaking, ironically." He gave a little chuckle. "Given that the only relatives I have left are females." He blushed deeply, as he looked down, avoiding eye-contact from either of them. His cousin laughed, which made him pop back up and give a searing stare of angrier at her. Arya thought the two acted like siblings more so than cousins - most likely due to being similar of age and neither having another sibling to fall back on, and so thus, they fell back on each other. She'd know - she and Sansa fought akin to cats and dog did at times, even though Neddy always intervened in such cases and solved any conflict they had with one another.

"Ay, but your uncle Morrgan Glover is our Master-Arms, sent by yer grandfather." Lyanna shrugged. "He's kind of like a dad, I think. Mum never tells me anythin' bout my paps, but I think dad's get ye up each and every mornin' & make you fight for ye bacon, right, Arya?" It occurred to Arya at this very moment that neither had father-figures, which was rather awkward. She sighed, thinking about how her own life would be without her Lord pappy - and nothing came in mind besides for the fact that her oldest brother Edric would obtain the Lordly ship of Winterfell, and Sansa would be married away immediately to the rather plain-looking Domeric. Domeric wasn't very handsome, but he was very kind to Arya when he visited Winterfell though. He was very unlike what a Bolton should be which was said to be cruel, and untrustworthy - and also, they were said to wear human skins left over from their victims the family skinned to death in the deep bowels of the Dreadfort ... but he didn't wear human skins, nor was he cruel or trustworthy. Their father said that they shouldn't say such rumors around him though.

Arya shrugged. "He does that to Ned and my other brothers each day. But not to me or Sansa - instead, we're waken by our Lady mum, of whom brings us to do knitting and other activities with girls our age." Arya found that so tirelessly bored, honestly. She hated the scratty, grey and white dress she wore now - that her mother forced her into, given that according to her, that she must be a proper Lady Stark and wear dresses, even if Arya usually destroyed her collection of dresses before sundown due the activities she got up too during the day. Or pulled them off to wear something from Torrhen's closet, given that he was only a year older than herself - which made their father dismay somewhat, and decide to give her some of his own old clothing from when he was a lad. He said that she wasn't allowed to steal from Torrhen, which was right - Arya wasn't.

"Oh." Brandon responded dully. "Than he does sound like a dad.. than... I guess.." He shrugged indifferently, as they moved on from their current location in the forest. This forest was rather whimsical, with how old it seemed to Arya. Even older than the woods of Winterfell seemed less elder than these woods were, with something... wrong in the air, as though the woods discriminating against something but Arya wasn't so sure what exactly - she also swore, that these woods chattered in the chilled breeze around her head in a foreign tongue of sorts that Arya knew not. Though Arya might just be crazy to think such things about bloody bark amongst other things, as she held herself together with her long, grey shall.

___________________

Arya found Bear Castle to be a surprisingly nice-looking hold, given how poor the owners of the castles were. It had its own natural moot - aka the sea and it sat on it's own personal island, though it was none-too far from the main isles and it sat upon a very large hillside, preventing it from being sunk under the deep waves crashing into it. She stared at Lord Brandon and his guards - of which he sometimes called One and Two, to make things simpler for him. One was a large, hulking man with whitish-red tracing locks, and Two was a balding man with deep brown hair. Both of them wore the green and raven of House Mormont though. The Castle had a natural land-bridge leading right up to it the very tip of the open drawbridge; they also saw the flutter of those very same color hanging neatly off the thick battlements of the castle; where they stored their piked heads. Which there were, indeed some piked-headed dogs; as pappy liked to call them, when he collected heads off of some wildlings or others, when they came, to put on the top of Winterfell as a warning. Her pappy also said that rotten heads were good for throwing over walls as well during a siege as a warning to those on the other side of the besieged gates.

"Welcome to our keep, my Lady Arya." He hadn't stop calling her lady, Lord Brandon. "I hope you'll find it sufficient to you and your Lord father's needs." He bowed, politely, before taking his cousin's hand and walking with her across the lane like a proper Lord would do to a Lady. She walked alongside the pair, with her delicate grey shall flying behind her as she walked over the bridge. One helped her by allowing her to take his arm and escorting her across the hazardous zone. One warned her not to look down, and to present herself promptly across the bridge. She listened to him, trusting in him to be her escort across the bridge. Usually, Arya would refuse an escort across a landmass she'd never been before, but Arya found herself looking down at the sharp boulders in the deep blue coast below her very feet and decided on being safe rather than being sorry with the Lord's man, as they walked across the hefty plateau onto the healthily large and well-manned drawbridge of Bear Castle. 

"I've heard a rumor that this castle was built by the Ironborn." Arya thought that to be a bad sign, given how Harrenhal turned out. It was a very large ruin, but a ruin nevertheless - she'd been there, to visit her auntie that dwell at the castle like a sad, sad ghost would. Indeed, it was very harsh on her Lady aunt, of whom died after cutting her wrists and being done with it. Harrenhal was a very lonely, very forbidding place in Arya's mind, and she could hardly imagine anyone wanting to occupy it, given that it was haunted and every family that had occupied it prior had been left extinct. It was a dark, gloomy place with no remediable qualities beyond for maybe being the largest sculpture Arya had ever seen in her life.  

Brandon kind of blushed again. "Yes. But let me assure you, no dragon burnt it, or that's it haunted or such. It was built by one of Hoare Kings as a Summerseat, though he hardly used it. He also destroyed the woodfort with flames because he didn't like it, but not before removing and putting one of the Heart-trees from the Forest into our hold though, for some unforeseen reason, I don't know  - and whomever the _King_ was, even made one of the Ironborn leaders at the time, Lord-Reaver of Bear Island. I do believe we had... too.. unfortunately marry the Lord's daughter before we could attain Bear Island properly, even after one of the King of Winter won that game of crevasse with one of the Hoare Kings and won back Bear Island for the North." He replied, with a slight smile on his oval-shaped face.

"Maybe the one who brought back one of the Heart-trees to your hold was the same one raised in the Seven?" Arya tilted her head curiously. Some in the Seven found Heart-trees to be something of comfort, unlike her Lady mother whom found Winterfell's heart-tree to be something sorely of discomfort given how... very discomforting she found it. It was quite a tree, with a very distinctive feeling of dread about it, like it hated outsiders and wished to curse them out into the world. Or so that's what Robert Bolton thought of it when he saw it for the first time, but she wasn't surprised it hated Boltons. They had sacked Winterfell twice in their family's long, bloody history as Red Kings, so it likely remembered their bloody deeds given how old the tree was.

"Doubtful, I don't know why they'd do it though. It doesn't make sense either, the Hoares worshiped the Sea Gods... They would stare at a Heart-tree and call it treasonous to their religion and cut it down, or something. I don't know what the Ironborn think about Heart-trees and I honestly don't care what they think of them." Brandon said, as they walked into the vast stone courtyard, with many brick houses siting within it. Winterfell had houses within it too, and even had it's own large garden - and even some tiny shops within it's grand walls, given that Winterfell was the largest castle in the North; but nevertheless, they had true town as well though, called Winter-town, which was some miles away from the castle-grounds of Winterfell itself, which Arya gladly visited from time to time with Torrhen and Cregan when the circus came around and such.

"Pappy says the Arryns had always wished for a Heart-tree. So it's possible that the King might've wanted a sitting place or something." Arya snorted, looking around. Her direwolf friend, followed them quietly, without the noticing. Nymphi was very quiet at times. It was rather unsettling, to not hear Nymphi not making sounds despite her large paws.

"Oh, you have a Direwolf. I... I... Uh didn't notice it." He stuttered, yet again looking red in the face. It wasn't his fault - she had been very quiet, and very curious, given that she had wandered off from her side as soon as they landed on the beach. Of course she'd looked for her, but pappy said they had to go and that she'd come back sooner or later. Though, she did note that he had been rather impatient to get going though.

"By the gods, Brandon stop blushin', you look like a maiden when you do so." Out came Maede, the Lady of Bear Island. She was a short, muscular woman, with long but braided raven-colored hair and deep brown eyes to add on to it. She like her daughter, had a simple, round face, but unlike Lyanna, had on a chainmail dress, along with a leather under-top and a emerald-green dyed bear-hide on her thick, broad shoulders; and a sword - which Arya guessed, was the bastard blade of Longclaw, given how it had a bear claw attached to the top of it - and Lord Mormont wasn't carrying a blade besides for a dirk, which made Arya wonder if Maede simply didn't trust him with him it. Alongside with her however, was her father of whom was smiling as he came towards her. He looked sufficiently pleased, and so Arya assumed that Maede did well in this test of her's.

________________

"I'm sorry... " Brandon's eyes widened upon hearing that from his aunt as she took him off to the side. He was a very cute bashful kid, in Arya's eyes at least. He'd make her a good friend yet, even if he himself didn't know it.

"I've come to the conclusion, that you my sweet daughter shall be fostered here for about a year." Brandon's eyes twinkled happily. He ignored Brandon, of whom was removed off to one side by Maede, and meanwhile Lyanna was off chatting to some girl when they came in. Lyanna never came across as shy as Brandon was, that was for sure. "Or even longer than that, my sweet little pumpkin, if you like it here. I'll be sure to make sure that Sansa and her betrothed visit you, when they get married of course. You know, I'm so pleased about how this is all going." He sounded pleased. "My two little girls are getting what they want ---" _and I reap all the benefits from that._ Arya thought subconsciously. "and that make me a happy father. Sansa's always wanted a Prince Charming - and she got one in a Bolton, to my eternal surprise. You, my sweet child, always wanted an adventure and some action, so go, take your opportunity." He lowered to her level, as he stared her in the eyes. His eyes were as warm as his smile, which reminded Arya of Needle strapped to her hoster. She'd never forgot him, nor his smile, even as long as she had needle - the only reminder she needed of the uncontrollable love she had for her family - for him, for her brother, for her sister despite their arguments, and most of all, for her mother, despite her strict, harsh words for Arya to be a Lay, she knew that she only met the best for Arya, however much she hated it though.

Her grey eyes widened at hearing that. "Thank you, pappy." She hugged him in a warm embrace as he came to her level. He hugged her back, and he smelled of pine-needles and dark coffee to Arya. It was a nice smell and it reminded her of home. Everything about him reminded Arya of her home - in a way, her pack was her home, and he was the alph

a of her pack. She would always look up to him, no matter what. "I wouldn't let you down, I swear it." She stated. She was being serious - she'd make him proud of her, and she'd see the smile in his eyes she earned it, truly. She'd also make it her mission, so that whenever she stared at Needle, she would remind herself that she earned her sword, like she earned his praise.

"I know, my darling Arya, I know." He smirked. "You remind me so very much of my sister.. I'd like to think that this was for her as much as for you." He sounded a little... huh, emotional, not something she heard from him very often. He wasn't the emotional sort of man, in Arya's eyes at least. She always considered him a rock of a man - as strong as as the sharpest point on the Valyrian sword of Ice - and the person to hold her in her darkest hours, when she was at her most vulnerable, he'd be there to be her rock. In a way, she hoped her future spouse would be as strong as a person as her pappy was to her...

She let go of him with a impish smile on her lips, as she dashed towards Lyanna Mormont. She knew that this was the start of something great - she could just feel it in the crispy, chilled air that made her breath become frost. She just knew it.


End file.
